


(Your Heart and My Heart are) Very Old Friends

by Amaya (girlnamedamaya), girlnamedamaya



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Eventual Romance, F/M, High School, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlnamedamaya/pseuds/Amaya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlnamedamaya/pseuds/girlnamedamaya
Summary: "And I swear, when I grow up, I won't just buy you a rose. I'll buy you the entire flower shop and you will never be lonely." // the unfolding of a love story told through moments in time (teen!dipifica ficlets)





	1. i gotta give it to you (you give me problems)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: dipper and pacifica as lab partners

It's sophomore year when sixteen year-old Dipper Pines actually starts paying attention to Pacifica Northwest.

And even after all this time, it's not because she's the most popular girl in their entire school, or because a Rolls Royce drives her home every day, or even because almost every guy on the football team tends to ogle her during cheerleading practice.

It's simply because she's in his AP Physics.

He's so used to being the only sophomore in the honors class that he thinks maybe she's lost for a second. It takes him a good five minutes to stop gaping in the doorway at the sight of her sitting in the back corner of the room, listening to music with her perfectly curled golden blonde hair and hot pink eye shadow standing out like a sore thumb amidst horn-rimmed glasses perched atop noses buried in text books and busy hands hurrying to scribble down pages and pages of notes.

Once he finds the function in his brain that closes his mouth, he cautiously slides over next to her, because this is the table where he usually sits. _Alone_.

He waits a few moments before clearing his throat.

She doesn't take out her ear buds but she does arch a perfectly tailored eyebrow at him, at least, even though her eyes stay fixed on her iPod. "Do you need something?" She sounds bored.

"Um," he puts his things on the table, pushing some of her pens and notebooks over to her side ( _Wait, no, that's not right. She doesn't have a side to_ his _table_ ) and he hesitates, "Don't take this the wrong way, but...you _do_ know that this is honor roll physics, right?"

She seems unimpressed. "Yeah, so?"

"Soooo..." He can feel the heat spread to his face as he rubs the back of his neck. He's not quite sure why he's nervous as he asks, "Are you…lost...or something?"

Her shoulders tense suddenly, and Dipper can tell in an instant he's said the wrong thing.

She flashes him a wolfish smile that makes his skin tingle. "Oh, really? Wow, I didn't notice that. You think I would, seeing as, you know," a laugh escapes her lips then, but she looks anything but amused right now. "I _do_ know how to read."

He clicks his tongue at that, wincing. "Nope, not lost, my bad. But still as charming as ever, I see."

"Oh, please," the girl narrows her icy blue eyes at him. "If you're going to be a sexist, condescending egomaniac, come up with something a little more original and maybe - just maybe - you might actually hurt my ego next time you - "

Dipper sighs under his breath, "Alright, I get it - "

Pacifica leans in and pulls him by the collar with startling strength. "In case no one ever gave you the memo, lips moving means I'm still talking."

He squints at her in turn. "Say, that eye shadow really brings out the dark roots in your fake blonde hair."

"God, you think you're real slick, aren't you? I call out your chauvinism and your best respond is a low blow about my hair?"

Bright patches of red form on his cheeks, flushed, "At least my sister and her pig are far more civilized company than you seem to be."

"And what of your cheapskate old man, eh? Or your little manchild friend?"

"Well, I suppose that compared to your stuck-up, snobbish parents they—"

"You've got some nerve bringing my parents into this, how dare you—"

" _How dare !?_ Wow, that's rich coming from the girl who insulted my family fir—"

"Well, if you hadn't opened that ginormous mouth of yours and then maybe—"

"What, Pacifica?" Dipper throws his arms up in exasperation. "What horrible, unspeakable thing are you so pissed off about? I'm sorry if I -"

"You can't talk about apologies to me anymore," She slams her book down and stands up from the table. "You asked me if I was lost!"

"Because I actually thought that you were!" He's standing up now, too.

Dipper is only acutely aware of how they must look to other people, standing and screaming at the back of the room, wounded pride and fired arrows and wild hand gestures and all, and how everyone else must be staring at them. Honestly, he's too angry to care right now.

The girl gives a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, of course you would. Because it's absolute bullcrap that some dumb blonde bimbo like me could ever even be in the same league, let alone _the same class_ , as a genius like you, huh, Pines?"

He's close to ripping his hair out now. "God, Pacifica! Don't be such a drama queen! You're — "

Their physics teacher, Mr. Wilkinson, who neither of them had noticed enter, slams his fist against his table. The two teenagers snap their heads to face him.

" _Mister_ Pines, _Miss_ Northwest," he calls them out sternly, making it absolutely clear by the tone of his voice that there's something else he'd like to call them, too. "Since the two of you seem to enjoy chatting with each other in class so much, why don't you pair up as tutor buddies?"

Both of them clamor towards their teacher in unison.

"What? No! There is no freaking way—"

"Sure, maybe when hell freezes over—"

"I'd rather shove an ice pick in my eye than have to spend two more minutes with that-that-that _dork_ —"

"Sir, if you have any mercy whatsoever inside of you, I'm begging you, please don't sentence me with _her_ —"

"Jump off a cliff, why don't you, Pines?"

"Ladies first, Northwest. I—"

Mr. Wilkinson slams his fist again, this time much more vehemently. "That is _ENOUGH!_ You two, sit down!"

Begrudgingly, Dipper and Pacifica slump back down into their seats, ducking their heads and mumbling "Sorry, Mr. Wilkinson," and "Won't happen again, sir."

The greying forty-year-old man smooths his checkered necktie and gathers his composure. "Okay class, courtesy of these two chatty Cathy's over here, pop quiz next meeting covering the entire chapter two, from pages 10 to 28."

Everyone in class groans in unison, sending daggers at the pair seated in the back. Mr. Wilkinson quirks his eyebrow up at them. "Planning on any more raucous outbursts, children? Because I've been itching to grade ten-page essays lately."

"No, Mr. Wilkinson," the girl grumbles.

"Sorry, sir," her seatmate replies, though it's clear he doesn't mean it.

They go back to discussing the new topic after that, and the pair pointedly ignores each other all throughout the entire period.

* * *

He looks for her in the hallways, once he has a free period.

It's not that hard, all things considered. After all, she likes to be the center of attention. She's flashy like that.

Today she's dressed in a loose maroon halter top and a blue denim button up skirt paired with black high-heeled ankle boots. He can see what all the fuss in the boy's locker room is about, he supposes; admittedly, it's easier to swallow Pacifica's bratty ways when she looks the way she does.

At the back of his mind, Dipper wonders for a moment how someone so girly and sweet-looking could turn out to be the devil incarnate herself.

Determined, he storms over to where she's stacking her books, hunched over her locker. He calls out her name and when she pretends not to hear him, he slams her locker shut, right in her face.

She shoots him a deadly glare for an entire ten seconds before she takes out her hand mirror and re-touches. "What do you want, Pines?"

Dipper frowns, shoves his hands into his pockets. "I would've thought ruining my favorite class for me would've given you sympathy enough to at least _acknowledge_ my presence now."

"Sorry, no can do," she smiles at the mirror, blows a kiss before closing it shut. "One of the perks of being in the popular clique is that I don't have to mingle with losers like you."

He bites the inside of his cheeks to keep from frowning any deeper. "Look, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly thrilled that I ended up with you as a tutoring partner, either. But if we want to survive Mr. Wilkinson's class, we need to study. _Both_ of us."

Pacifica sighs in defeat, and some small ounce of pride wells up inside Dipper as he dances on his toes slightly. "Although I am repulsed by the mere thought of breathing the same air as people of the nerd species, I do see your point."

"Glad to know you have _some_ wits to you, at least." He adjusts the straps on his backpack uncomfortably, suddenly shy. "So, um...?"

"My place, after school, around six."

His eyebrows furrow. "Six seems pretty late. We've got a lot to cover for next meeting's quiz," he counts off on his fingers. "There's the review of the basic fundamental equations of physics like Nowak, Schrödinger —"

"Did you just sneeze?"

"And not to mention all the other variables and statistics involved in them. This is complicated stuff, Pacifica. Are you sure you can learn this all in one night?"

"Look here, geek," she says coolly. She punctuates every word with a jab of her matte black-painted finger at his chest. "I don't need some dopey, khaki-wearing, manic-obsessive prick like you to question my intellectual capability."

Dipper's face flushes, indignant. "Hey, if anyone's being a prick it's—"

She holds up her hand. "Just show up when I ask you to, kapeesh?" It's a question but she doesn't even wait for an answer.

With a flip of her blonde hair, Pacifica's gone.

Dipper grinds his teeth and slams his head against the lockers in hopes of waking up from this catastrophic nightmare. The bell rings and he's still standing there.

_Oh, God lend him strength._

* * *

As soon as Dipper finishes all his extra-curriculars, he packs his things hastily and goes straight over to the Northwest Mansion. The gates open as soon as he introduces himself as Pacifica's (unwilling) study buddy and a butler escorts him to the veranda.

"Huh," Pacifica greets him with a smirk, leaning against a marble column, barefoot. "You're twenty minutes early. A little excited, aren't we, Pines?"

She's still wearing the same clothes she wore to school today, but her hair is in a messy high ponytail now and all that's left of her make-up is the faint trace of shimmering pink framing her eyes. He almost tells her she looks nice before he remembers that's not really something he does, and so he settles for clearing his throat instead.

"D-Don't flatter yourself, Pacifica," Dipper scoffs, lifting up his chin. It's funny that he's never really noticed how small she was before, without heels. "I just want to get this over with as soon as possible, that's all."

"Sure, okay," The other corner of Pacifica's mouth twitches upward, and she's smiling now, if only a little bit. And Dipper can't help the way he's transfixed by the rare sight that he barely even notices as she swings the door wide open and walks inside, snickering under her breath, "Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here."

(And did Pacifica just make a _joke_? Boy, he must've hit his head against that locker way too hard.)

Dipper grabs his backpack and shuffles right after her.

They're sitting in the living room. Dipper has his textbook open to explain:

"So these equations describe all the known relationships between electricity and magnetism and how both of these behave in a way that is entirely exclu—"

"Hey, are you hungry?"

Dipper blinks. "What?"

Pacifica bites her lip to keep from laughing and nudges his foot with hers, "Just being a good host and making conversation, is all."

"Pacifica," he groans. "You don't need to make conversation, really. We have dozens more equations to go over and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Failed pop quiz in physics equates the end of your nerdy little life and all that. But frankly, Dipper," she gestures to him with her Hershey's bar, chewing nonchalantly. "If I have to listen to you recite another stupid equation at me again, I will like, literally slip into a coma or something."

"You used literally wrong."

"Shut up," her mouth scoffs, but here eyes are sparkling. "It's a habit. And you're avoiding my question."

"I'm not hungry," he waves off. He tries to flip through the next pages, but she closes it shut. He opens it again and gives her a pointed look.

"Cheater, cheater, compulsive eater," she singsongs. "You're going to swallow that pen if you don't eat something soon."

He sighs and rubs his forehead. At the pained look Pacifica shoots his way when he glances at his notes again, Dipper caves. "Fine, I could use a little break, too, I guess. But only for a little while, okay? And then it's back to studying."

"Mmhkay, be right back," Pacifica smiles and walks towards her kitchen

_Was Pacifica just nice?_ Dipper wonders in astonishment. _Huh. Today must be the day hell freezes over. Just when I thought this town couldn't get any weirder._

(And did she just call him Dipper?)

* * *

He's still chewing on his pen when she comes back later.

She whistles at him, "Hey, Pines! Catch!"

Dipper catches the object thrown at him with ease (Louis Vutton chopsticks? Is that even a thing?). He examines it warily as she throws herself back into her bean bag chair next to him, handing him a bowl of ramen.

"Violá!" She beams, flourishing her hands. "Dinner is served."

"Thanks," he almost laughs at her playfulness. This is still Pacifica, right? "Nice throw, by the way."

"Hey, I'm in the school fencing team. Of course I've got a good wrist."

He means to shake his head, but he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. Because he's pretty sure that that's the first Pacifica-esque thing she's said all day that didn't come across as mean or necessary bad and...is he going crazy or is she actually tolerable, or heaven forbid — _likable_ like this?

"Thank you for that very nice compliment, Dipper," he imitates her valley girl accent. "Of which I am perfectly capable of accepting without a snide remark whatsoever like a _normal person_."

She snorts. "Okay, you asked for it, Pines! En garde!"

"Wha—?" Before Dipper can even comprehend her words, Pacifica swiftly plunges herself into his study space and clashes her chopsticks with his.

One chopstick flies out of his hand, but luckily, he has good reflexes. Dipper parries instinctively and fends her off. It turns into this match, corps-á-corps, this elegant dance of glisé and flèche, forward and back, woosh and thwack. They meet each other blow for blow.

In a game-changing last move, Pacifica effectively uses her other chopstick to knock Dipper's last chopstick out of his hand. It flies into midair and she catches it.

Smiling breathlessly, she pokes the chopstick at him. "Jeu terminé," she says in perfect French with that goddamn tilting smirk of hers. Her blue eyes are sparkling even more now and he finds himself counting the flecks of green in them. "Game over."

"Gah! I've been stabbed!" Dipper clutches at his chest dramatically and pretends to be in excruciating pain. "Oh, the agony! The agony!"

She laughs — _really_ laughs this time, not like a polite laugh or a snooty one or a small, quiet 'ha'. It's genuine happiness seeping into her voice and dripping with every shuddering giggle. And honestly?

The sound of it amazes him.

He chimes in with her and they both laugh until they have tears in their eyes, clutching at their stomachs. And then they laugh some more.

Still chuckling under her breath, Pacifica offers Dipper some of her soda. He thanks her and pours a little bit of it for himself, only filling a quarter of his glass. He thinks it's strange that she chooses to share her food with him when he's sure they have more than enough to give him, but he appreciates her all the more for that small gesture.

"I didn't know you liked Japanese food," he says as he douses soy sauce into his bowl. "But hey, shows what I know, right?"

"Well, I don't really like it in particular, but it was the only thing in my fridge that I could just reheat," She says sheepishly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Pacifica Elise Northwest, culinary arts extraordinaire."

"Hey! Winners eat and losers shut their trap!" She sticks her tongue out and digs in happily. "Besides, it's not like I know you that well, either. I mean, we're practically strangers."

Dipper shakes his head, slurping some of his soup. "What? No, you know plenty about me. You know my name, and my address, and who my family is, and who my friends are, and my school reputation, and—"

"I don't even know what your favorite color is," She says seriously. "I mean, yeah, I do know all that other stuff, but those things don't matter. Anyone can find that out with just one look at your records or by asking around. It's nothing to write home about, Dipper."

He sips his Coke, smiles. "Then let's play twenty-one questions."

A puzzled look decorates her face. "What's twenty-one questions?"

"It's a game where we take turns asking questions," he shrugs, going back to chewing some more noodles. "And we both answer them. Game?"

"Game. You first."

"Favorite animal?"

"Easy. Turtles," she shrugs. "They're gentle, free-spirited souls. They can go anywhere they want and still be home."

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "I see the appeal."

"What about you?"

"Athena's symbol: owls. They're intelligent and quiet, and I like the peculiar way they look." He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Your turn."

"Favorite color?" she looks proud of herself for that.

"Violet. I love purple sunsets."

"Same."

He raises his eyebrows at her, "Not pink?"

"Sorry to disappoint," she rolls her eyes, "But I'm not actually Barbie, you know."

"Well, there goes my entire belief system. Favorite Disney movie?"

She flushes, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Lilo and Stitch, because it's the first one that ever made me cry."

He laughs quietly at her new found shyness. "Mine is Meet the Robinsons. It's warmhearted, witty, and inspiring. I recognize the same awkwardness and innovation Lewis has with me, and I guess I like that the most."

"Keep moving forward," Pacifica quotes happily. "Favorite song?"

"I don't think you've heard of it, it's really old, but it's called 'For the Longest Time' by Billy Joel."

" _Actually_ ," she smiles and pulls out her iPod. She offers him one of her ear buds and Dipper's favorite song starts playing. "I love old-timey music like this. Classics. It has a certain emotional depth to it that today's pop songs don't, you know?"

The teenage boy shakes his head. "You just keep surprising me today, Northwest. What's yours?"

"It's what I was listening to in AP Physics earlier." She scrolls through her playlist. "It's 'Kathleen' by Catfish and the Bottlemen."

"Punk rock? Huh. Always figured you'd be more into Taylor Swift than Panic! at the Disco."

"I like the message this song has, about loving someone even though you have no reason to. You love them even if they hurt you and you can't help it anymore, it's like a destructive impulse inside you."

"It's a nice song," He offers, bumping his shoulder with hers playfully. "Has a nice feel to it. Like one of those slow rock U2 songs my mom used to play every day, back when I was a kid."

She smiles that happy little smile again, the one that makes him look at her like she's hung the stars right before his eyes. He wonders if he's ever seen her this happy before. Wonders if she ever has been.

"What was she like, your mom?" Pacifica asks, in a tone he's never heard from her before. She fiddles with her fingers and peeks at him almost shyly, through the curtain of her fringe. He stares at her, all slewed eyes and wispy blonde hair falling over clear blue orbs, and he sees a different kind of storm in her gaze. He's so used to the sharpness and the ice that always glinted bright in her eyes; it takes him a second to adjust to the tenderness.

Hope and relief and blue skies as the clouds break up. Cool water lapping at the sand, waves tripping over each other to draw closer, to reach for land and the survivor that stands singular, waiting, shipwrecked in the aftermath of a hurricane that's finally beginning to pass.

It makes his breath catch, though he doesn't quite understand why.

He clears his throat.

"My mom?" Dipper asks, bewildered. She gives a little nod, so he answers.

"Uh...well, let's see...Her name's Cassidy and she's an English professor at UC Berkley. She was young when she had Mabel and me, so she's just barely over 30 now. She's written a few best-selling books, but she's very humble about it, and family is the most important thing in the world to her. She'd always tuck me in at night before, kissing my forehead, and whispering that I was her favorite." Here Dipper smiles. "Though I suspect she says that to Mabel, too. She's warm and chatty and sweet. Basically Mabel but not hyped up on sugar."

Stray locks of sunflower blonde hair fall over her face as she tucks her hand under her chin as she listens intently.

"She sounds great." The sentence is a compliment, but she doesn't say it like it is. She says it like it's something sad. "I wish I was as close to my mom as you seem to be. I mean, I don't even know anything about her."

"I'm sure that's not true. Hey, quid-pro-quo, why don't you tell me about _your_ mom this time? Come on."

For the few moments that she stays doesn't say anything, Dipper is scared that he's ruined something. He almost apologizes for it, almost says 'You know what, forget I even said anything. Break's over, let's go back to reviewing'. But she sighs quietly, interrupting his train of thought, and he can picture the cogs turning in her head and so he waits.

"Okay," she says after a while.

At first, she only tells her about the fundraising and the charity galas and the social banquets, how she's always away on flights and never home for her only daughter's birthdays and never thinks Pacifica's grades are high enough and never speaks to her unless it's to tell her about proper decorum. But then she goes deeper; she tells him his parents didn't even want to get married, just that her father was wealthy and in love with her mother but she only married him for financial security. Now they hardly talk or show affection or god forbid — laugh.

As he listens, Dipper starts to understand. Pacifica is looking down, tracing patterns on the floorboard absently, like she wants to act nonchalant about it all. It doesn't work, not on him. Because he can see — clear as day — the anger and pain reflected in those big, blue eyes.

"Is she really all that bad?"

He's almost too afraid to ask, to pry, but he's Dipper and he can't help himself. He's just so intrigued by all of this, the mystery of her, this girl who, before today, he thought was just some vapid, narcissistic, prissy mean girl. From how small and fragile she looks right now, hunched into herself and smiling like it hurts, he starts to wonder if even half of the stories he's heard about her are true.

"No, sorry. Yeah, you're right. She isn't really that awful, when I think about it. I mean, I didn't know any other life, so I didn't miss anything," she raises her chin, bubbling up laughter that sounds broken to his ears. "The illustrious Priscilla Northwest. Everyone says she's very talented, very intelligent. And not to mention, very beautiful."

She bites her lip, and Dipper doesn't even understand why he thinks _I can't imagine how she couldn't be_.

Pacifica wrings her hands in her lap, shuffling her feet distractedly. "She could be kind sometimes, and she always gave me what I wanted. But she was sad, too. She was always so sad, when she didn't think I could see. I never understood why. I-I..."

That's when she starts crying.

And Dipper's not proud of it, but that's when he starts freaking out, too.

Because Pacifica Northwest, the most confident, assured and level headed girl he knew, was sitting here beside him, and she's shaking and sobbing and — and — and — what is he supposed to do? Is he even supposed to do _something_? They're not really friends, not since a few hours ago, but he can't just let her continue to feel horrible. Oh, it all makes his head spin.

Beyond the confusion of his shock is the perception of her heartbreak — a deep well of pent-up sorrow and hurt that he struggles to fathom. She's always been built like a ballerina; the idea of such a petite body holding so much grief. He can hardly comprehend the geometry of her sadness.

Cautiously, he rubs her shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner. "Hey, hey, it's alright. Pacifica," he coos. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"I just...I don't understand either, Dipper." She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and bites her lip to keep more tears from spilling out. "I...I think I _make_ her sad, like, like..,It's me and I try and I'm always trying, so hard, but I'm never enough. And I want to be but...But it's hard because she's so amazing and accomplished and I feel like, when I'm talking to her, she doesn't really listen. I'm so invisible sometimes."

The confession startles the teenage boy. _Pacifica_ feels invisible sometimes? But she's always been this hurricane of a girl. This whirlwind of long, blonde hair and short skirts and high heels, strutting through the halls like it's the Red Sea and she's some sort of high school Moses. Guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. She was the popular head cheerleader, the trendsetter, the it girl. She had money and her family name and, honestly, Dipper would've thought that that would've been more than enough for her.

To him, it's like he's seeing an entirely different person here, sitting in her place. Because the girl he knew wasn't friendly with him. She didn't have impromptu fencing matches using chop sticks, or admit that she cried over Lilo and Stitch, or eat Hershey's and then lick the sticky chocolate remnants off of her fingers. She rolled her eyes or laughed haughtily or ignored him and that was all there was between them.

She was like marble: cut sharp and cold and smooth.

Now she's more like porcelain: delicate and fragile and precious.

A dainty, finely-manicured hand reaches out to touch his knee, snapping Dipper out of his thoughts. Pacifica manages a small smile, without the usual icy demeanor to it that's normally reserved for him and his sister. She pushes the hair away from her eyes, says, "So, back to the topic of Maxwell's equations, shall we?"

He laughs at that, the way she pulls off geeky just as effortlessly as chic. "Sure. But first we have to go over Gauss' law of magnetism first, and then cover the behavior of electricity and — oh, polarity, can't skip that one, and — _hey_!"

She pulls his hat down over his head, giggling. "Jeez, you're such a dork."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, lovelies! New user here. This story was originally posted on fanfic.net so feel free to check me out there, still as "girlnamedamaya". Oh, and I'd be forever grateful if you could support this work by leaving your thoughts and reviews in the comments down below. Hoped you liked this one, love lots!
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	2. too busy being yours (to fall for somebody new)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> random word generated prompts: milkshake, driver's license, blonde, roller coaster, and cookies

**milkshakes**

"Good going in there, Dipstick." Pacifica can't help but snort as she takes off her goggles, the last pair in the room. "You almost burnt a hole straight through the lower floor with that acid spill."

Dipper rolls his eyes at his lab partner and piles his lab coat neatly atop all the others in the cabinet. "Oh, shut it, Northwest," he elbows her playfully. "My hand wouldn't have slipped if you didn't spill your nail polish all over the counter."

"You're losing your touch, you know. Anika Ryan finished her experiment first," the blonde says with an edge in her voice. She flips her hair from under her collar, hands him her lab coat. "I'll be damned if I let that half-witted bottom feeding hick top the class again this year."

"Well, maybe that's because _she_ has an actual lab partner to help her out, and not just one who hands her things and then spends the rest of the hour doing her manicure."

"Oh please, we both know you don't need the help, dork." It's a compliment, but she says it like an insult.

Still, Dipper smirks. "True. But it would be nice to get some from time to time."

"Whatever," Pacifica sticks her tongue out at him, and he knows he's won. He hides his grin from her as he flicks the lights off. "Just hurry up, will you? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah, hold on, your Highness," he locks the doors closed behind them and jingles the keys in his fingers. The halls are almost empty now, twenty-minutes into the lower years' lunch break. They're walking quietly to the cafeteria when all of a sudden Pacifica grabs his arm excitedly.

"Wanna go get a something to drink?" Pacifica tilts her head in an enticing gesture.

A curious half-smile forms on his face. "Only if it's a smoothie."

"Better. Milkshakes," Pacifica nods, her periwinkle eyes lighting up. "I know this greasy little diner just a little bit out of town where they make the most monstrous milkshakes, complete with s'mores toppings and KitKat bars and everything! It's absolutely guaranteed to give you diabetes!"

"Hm, let me see," he looks down at her cheekily. He knows how much she hates being reminded of their height difference, so of course, he pats her on the head smugly. "A little - "

"Watch it!"

"-sixteen year old adrenaline junkie with a penchant for getting into trouble, loaded up with a ton of caffeine and sugar?" He shakes his head. "Sounds dangerous."

She huffs, blowing the fringe away from her eyes. "Danger is just another word for fun."

"Are you seriously suggesting we spend the next - " he looks at his watch, "Half-hour driving out of town just to go get a couple of milkshakes?"

She looks offended, and he laughs at her theatrics. "French fries and cheeseburgers, too, of course."

"Of course," he appeases. "The food there any good?"

"Sinfully so. Just my taste, then," she laughs at her own joke.

He wants to tease her some more, but from the way she's grinning and looking up at him like that, he guesses she already knows that he's caved in ten seconds ago. Sighing, he puts away the lab keys and takes out his car keys. She practically jumps up and down in and drags him to her car in excitement.

He shakes his head at her. "You think they'll let a couple of students in? They might think we're playing hooky, you know."

She rolls her eyes at his paranoia. "Because they're also moonlighting as high school faculty members?"

He lets out a small 'ha' at that and starts the engine. He looks at her through the corner of his eye and she flashes him a devilish grin.

"And even if they were," Pacifica says offhandedly, putting on her sunglasses. "I own place."

* * *

**driver's license**

"Okay, so just ease on the clutch and -"

The blonde girl yelps, nearly bumping her head through the glass as the car rigidly jerks forward.

"Ohkaaay," she drawls, trying her best to be patient. Her eyes narrow into slits. " _Ouch_."

The driver beside her groans, apologetic. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm just really bad at this."

Pacifica lets out a sharp laugh. "Huh, the guy can exorcise ghosts and banish demons with no problem, but has trouble learning how to parallel park?"

"Yeah, well," Dipper pretends to adjust his rear view mirror to hide the blush on his face. "We don't all have car collections that we've been practicing driving with since we were fourteen."

"Oh please. Don't turn your poverty into an excuse. I learned when I was sixteen just like you and I did it in a week. And terrible or not, you are passing your driver's test tomorrow, so help me god. I need someone to drive me to the mall. Start it again."

Dipper puts his foot on the brake, turns the key in the ignition. He places the car into the gear. "Wouldn't that still be violating the rules of you being grounded? And what did you even get grounded for anyway?"

"Slowly put your foot on the gas and accelerate a bit," she instructs. "And no, going to the mall is allowed because my parents specifically said I was banned from hanging out with my friends for a week, so when they ask me, I'll just tell them I'm going to do stuff with my...lab partner."

"Dipper smiles, backing into a tight space. "You really are a brilliant evil mastermind."

"I know. Turn at forty-five degrees," she watches him carefully. "Besides, I hardly think getting a B- in AP English Lit warrants a punishment. I still stand by my view that Mrs. Walsh should have made us read Animal Farm instead of that shabby, hollow excuse for a book The Great Gatsby."

Dipper raises his eyebrow at her, straightening out the car. "I actually thought you'd like The Great Gatsby. People say it's glamorous depiction of the Jazz Age."

"Empty is what they mean, and the characters are all phony and superficial, too. It made me upset just reading about them."

"What? Reading about the beautiful and wealthy Daisy Buchanan made you upset? Or the romantic and suave Jay Gatsby?"

Pacifica rolls her eyes. "More like the air-headed and selfish type-list blonde girl who has a desperately obsessed stalker. If he wasn't rich, it wouldn't be romantic you know. She'd be giving him a restraining order instead of some 'rich and supple wine to which warms their love' and all that crap."

Dipper laughs, "You say you hate it, but you quote it. Maybe you - " the car lurches into a painful stop, the rear bumping into the front of another car, setting off the lights and the security sirens. Dipper groans, slams his head into the driving wheel. "I almost had it!"

Pacifica bites her lip to keep from laughing inappropriately. "Yeah, well can you try for more than almost next time? Because you just crashed my hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand dollar 1966 Lamborghini Miura into another hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollar 1969 Maserati Ghibli."

Dipper buries his head into the wheel, accidentally honking numerous times. "I need a miracle to teach me how to do this."

Pacifica smirks, "Lucky for you, you're looking at her."

* * *

  **blonde**

"Hey, so I really just gotta ask you something," Dipper says, eyeing Pacifica over his comic book.

The pair find shade under a tree by the edge of the school fence, the one place they both went to when they wanted to be away from other people for a while. He used to go stay here by himself back in freshman year, his own secret hiding place. One day he came here looking to get some peace and quiet, when all of the sudden she was already there, listening to music and eating a cup of chocolate pudding. She raised her eyebrow at him in defiance - "Want some?" she said coolly - and he sat down next to her and ate a spoonful.

He hasn't needed to go looking for another hiding place ever since.

Today it's a cloudy and everyone in school is somewhere far far away where you're all too busy worrying about the latest gossip or who's having a party this weekend or who's hooking up with who. Pacifica is lying on her stomach, leaning on her elbows as she solves riddles from the book Dipper lent her a week ago. Of course she has her earphones on, he thinks amusingly. He knows music is like breathing to her, she can't go on a day without it. But it there's another thing that surprised him, how much she likes to solve puzzles and riddles. How well she does it, too.

"Yeah?" she scribbles her answers on the pages of her sodoku book absentmindedly. "Okay. What is it?"

Dipper bites his pen, smiling. He loves teasing her. "What's your real hair color?"

He expects her to maybe punch him on the arm for that comment or even just shoot a dirty look his way. But she doesn't even look up from what she's reading, simply turns the page. "Why do you want to know?"

He looks at her figure in the sunlight, sprawled out on the blanket like a lazy kitten. Her skin is fair and creamy, freckles decorating her bare shoulders in an off white chiffon top. Sunlight beams shine through her sunflower blonde hair, making it look like a halo against her deep blue eyes and smiling dark red lips. Her eyes are so blue he swears he can see the waves crashing in them.

"No reason," he smiles. "You know you'd make the most adorable redhead, right?"

* * *

**rollercoaster**

"Oh, come on, it's not that scary." Dipper lugs the immobile blonde with all the force he can muster, but somehow she still stays firmly planted on the ground.

"Did you forget that I am terrified of heights? How much more of plummeting to my own death?" She frantically waves her arms around at him, her voice higher under duress.

Dipper gives up making her budge and sighs. "Well, what do you want to ride then?"

"I don't know. Something safe like...like..." Pacifica looks around desperately. "The carousel!"

"With all the other giggling, snot nosed five-year olds? For the second time?"

"The tea cups!"

"You'd willingly want to waste five minutes in a nausea-inducing carnival ride with me and my weak stomach?"

"The bumper cars!"

"Oh, fun. It should only take us about a week to get to the front of the line."

"The love boat?"

Dipper raises his eyebrow ( _like the dipshit he is,_ she thinks). "Don't even go there."

Pacifica grabs Dipper's hat abruptly and screams into it. "You're just making excuses because the only ride you want to go on is thisrickety, overrated, cardiac-arrest-provoking, huge ass roller coaster!"

"Hey, hey," Dipper rubs the girl's arms soothingly, trying not to chuckle. He knows her reaction is no laughing matter (but can he seriously help it when she looks like she's two minutes away from getting a stress ulcer?). He bites his lip to reprimanding himself and says, "I've never seen you this anxious before. What's the matter?"

"I-I just..." Pacifica shuts her eyes for a second, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know. These things just freak me out. I mean, how could you just...ride that thing without thinking...imagining what if a screw got loose or the tracks didn't hold or...or...something! And the whole thing just falls apart, taking you down with it. I mean, how could you just sit back and enjoy it?"

"Paz, you're overthinking it." He knows she doesn't want to hear this but - "You know, sometimes, I notice you can get a little...neurotic and...perfectionist...you know?"

She blinks. "No. What do you mean by that?"

"You're kind of a control freak."

Pacifica's face flushes, whether it's with anger or embarrassment, he's not sure. "Well, okay, fine. But better a control freak than a corpse."

He takes her hand, rubbing her palm gently. "If you really, really don't want to, then it's okay if we don't. I just wanted to make you happy, that's all. I just wanted to show you how to let go."

She looks up at him, her blue eyes like glass, clear and ready to break. "I'm scared. I don't trust that thing."

"Then trust me." He kisses her knuckles. "I'll be right beside you the entire time. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

Quietly, she nods, even smiles a bit at him "Okay. I trust you."

Later, when they're strapped on the roller coaster as it's about to start, she twines her fingers with his and never lets go. She screams with every plunge and squeals with every turn, first out of terror, but soon it almost sounds like laughter. By the time they get off the ride, she's grinning and breathless. She tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

**cookies**

"Now class, you'll want to whisk the batter quickly to get a nice, smooth consistency -"

Pacifica's in the middle of whisking more eggs into her dry cookie batter with great ferocity when...

_Thump!_

A crumpled up piece of paper lands in her bowl.

Pacifica snaps her head around the room to find the perpetrator and spots an apologetically smiling apron-clad Dipper Pines.

"Sorry," he mouths.

"What the hell is this?" She shouts under her breath, among other things.

"Read it," he says.

She fishes out the note from her bowl and licks the batter off of her fingers, wipes it on her apron. She unfolds it to reveal the message: _Catastrophe cookies. Will give rides in favor of some much needed help._

Pacifica rolls her eyes and scribbles a hasty reply on the back: _By assistance, don't you mean freeloading? And say please._

She tosses it behind her and resumes whisking. Soon she's pouring the mixture into a tray and sticking chocolate chips in it when she promptly receives a response via paper airplane a few minutes later: _Whichever answer will make you help me. Please. Desperate. Will skip out on Chess Club and take you to shopping this Friday._

She snorts, writes: _You were going to take me anyway. P.S. paper airplanes are so middle school._

He retorts: _Yes, but now I'm buying. P.S. As opposed to needing to be bribed to help out a friend?_

 _Bribery is universal,_ she states.

 _Please. I'm begging,_ he answers.

 _Damn my conscience_ , the blonde girl thinks. She sticks her tray in the oven and sets her timer. Pacifica looks over her shoulder to the pleading eyes of a teenager desperately whisking what seems to be flour and milk with a few eggshells that just won't turn into cookie dough, his chocolate chips crushed and his tray an array of disastrous attempts.

She mouths an exasperated "Fine," to the messy, cookie dough-covered teenager and his entire body slackens and slumps over, relieved. He grins at her, all ear-splitting and twinkle-eyed, and she sticks her tongue out at him as she makes her way over to his counter at the back.

"Stop smiling and start making a fresh batch," she bumps her shoulders with his, a habit she picked up over the past years, even though he's grown much taller than her now. "Clean up this mess and get me a new bowl and some chocolate chips. I'll be the one cracking the eggs this time, Dipstick."

Dipper chuckles, puts his hands on his girlfriend's hips. Pacifica stiffens, looks around at everyone else, too preoccupied with their own work to notice them, and their teacher, nowhere to be found.

"Whatever you say, boss."

She relaxes a bit into his touch, even cranes her neck instinctively. "Getting a little distracted, aren't we, Dipper?"

"Mmhm sorry, Paz," she feels his warm breath on her neck, feels the soft, slow kiss he presses in the spot behind her ear. "You're just so distracting, you know."

She swallows slowly, rests her hands on the counter. "What are you doing?"

She can practically see him smirking as he tucks his head into the dip of her neck. "You had some cookie dough behind your ear, love."

She laughs breathlessly. "You're full of shit." She cranes her neck and he leans closer, expecting a kiss and getting some flour wiped on his nose instead. He crinkles his face and she quickly escapes his grasp, whips him with a kitchen towel.

"Now get back to work, slacker."

He rolls his eyes, smiles. "Whatever you say, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I finally got this up. It's been exactly one entire week since my last update, which is good, because I really want to make this into a regular sorta thing. So cheers to that! Reviews feed my muse and I love hearing from my readers. Thanks, guys. Stay awesome!
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	3. run away with me (lost souls in revelry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: dipper and pacifica meet in a subway station

As the clock by the ticket booth chimes 8 P.M., the subway station comes to life.

Bench-goers jump up and hurry to the booth as everyone clamors to get on board. Eager sightseers push against the crowd of frazzled-looking travelers. Suits tap their watches and shout at each other to pick up the pace, climb on faster.

That's when Pacifica Northwest comes sprinting into the scene with her luggage in tow. She is fifteen years old and running away without a penny in her pocket.

The young girl bobs and weaves her way to the front. Breathless, she elbows anyone who refuses to let her through, but it's too late. The train is preparing to leave.

Pacifica waves her ticket at the conductor in a furious huff. With some very colorful words, she demands that he let her on board right this instant. She makes sure to make her voice as loud and angry-sounding as she can, but it only earns her an annoyed look from the man.

"Please wait for the next train," he sounds stiff and rehearsed.

"Are you deaf? Haven't you been listening to me? I can't! The next one is at ten and I have to - "

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry, but I can't allow you inside."

She puts her hands on her hips and lifts her chin at him. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The man gives her a tight-lipped smile. "We'll be departing soon. Please wait for the next train." And with that, he leaves.

Pacifica curses.

She's left with not much else to do. And so, in hopes of comfort food, the girl trudges along a Baskin Robbins propped up by the corner of the station. She waits in line and scans the assortment of flavors on display when —

"I'm sorry, sir, but these coupons expired days ago." The clerk is talking to the customer in front of Pacifica.

He is a sinewy teenage boy no older than her, his hands jingling change in his pocket. He frowns at the clerk, "Do you mind checking again?"

The clerk shakes her head. "It expired last Friday, sir."

"Student discount?" He tries.

She shakes her head once more, "Only applies on school days. I'm sorry, sir."

"Oh," the teenager deflates. "S'alright. Sorry to bother you."

He's returning his order to the clerk when Pacifica slides her credit card over on the counter. "Add in two scoops of caramel chocolate crunch and it's on me," she says, her voice honeyed and smooth.

He flashes a sheepish smile at her as the clerk punches in the numbers.

The blonde hands him his mint chocolate chip milkshake with a flirtatious smile. Even puffy-eyed and barefaced, Pacifica knows she doesn't need to try hard to look gorgeous. After all, everyone's been looking her way ever since she walked in here.

(Everyone except him.)

"Thanks for the milkshake," He says, face tinting with the faintest shade of red.

Pacifica gestures towards an empty table by the corner, "Thank me by keeping me company?"

He follows without another word.

The pair sits down in silence. As he is checking his phone, Pacifica looks over her companion with obvious interest. Maybe it's the sweater vest, she thinks.

He looks over to her with a stiff smile. "So..."

The blonde smiles and licks her spoon indulgently. "So?"

Another forced smile. His social skills are pathetic (but oh so charming).

She puts him out of his misery and starts, "So where are you off to?"

"California," he answers, sounding formal.

She steeples her fingers under her chin, leaning in. "Pleasure or business?"

"Neither. I'm a local heading home."

She smiles. "To the land of Katy Perry and Gwen Stefani, then."

One side of his mouth tilts up, "I prefer Tom Waits."

She almost blurts out, "Who?" but decides against it. The girl puts on a laugh of courtesy instead, easing him into the conversation. He gives a small, nervous chuckle of his own.

"So what brought you to Gravity Falls?" She twirls her spoon between her fingers. "I mean, no offense, but it's not like the town's a top-rated tourist attraction or anything."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, but my great uncles live here, and it's always a lot of fun staying with them. My sister and I come here every summer."

Sister? Pacifica's eyes dart over to his small gym bag and single ticket in hand. "That doesn't explain why you're traveling alone."

"Oh, she wanted to stay behind another week to say goodbye to all her friends."

She raises her eyebrows. "And I suppose you're not leaving anyone behind, then?"

He doesn't answer right away. He fiddles with his watch for a while, swallowing as he feels her eyes on him. Finally, he concedes with a glum sort of almost-smile. "I'm afraid the one who got left behind this time."

She offers him a look of sympathy. "Were you close?"

He nods, "Very." The word hangs in the air as he stirs his drink absently.

"Hey, cheer up and tell me a joke," she nudges him with her spoon.

Bewilderment is evident on his face as he asks, "Shouldn't it be the other one around?"

"Actually, I have a couple of great jokes in mind. But I want you to tell me one of yours first to get a sense of your kind of humor."

"Okay, well, uh..." The boy scratches his chin. "Oh! I have a good one."

"Lay it on me then," she grins and leans closer. As unblinking as his eyes seemed before, up close, they really are the most delicious shade of chocolate brown.

He starts, "A man goes to the doctor and says he's depressed, says that life seems harsh and cruel. He feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain.

The doctor says, 'Oh, treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him, that should pick you up.'

The man bursts into tears and says, 'But doctor — I am Pagliacci.'"

He laughs at his own joke but quickly stops once he realizes he's laughing alone. "Pacifica?"

The girl in question only blinks in response, shell-shocked. As soon as Pacifica picks up her jaw from the floor, she sputters, "Woah."

"Woah?" There is a look of expectation on his face.

"You...You have a very twisted sense of humor."

This seems to alarm him because he begins to apologize profusely. "Sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry. I-I could always — I mean, well, I have a c-couple of chemistry cat jokes that you might like? O-Or Star Wars jokes? I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if you've never seen Star Wars — not that that's a sexist thing! But I mean, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel here. Other than that, all I have left are dad jokes like, 'Hey dad, I'm hungry,' and then 'Hey hungry, I'm dad' or—"

Pacifica bursts out laughing. "Hey, hey, don't worry about it. The joke was great. You caught me off-guard, that's all."

He chuckles nervously.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way but..." She looks up at him with fascination. "I've never talked to someone like you before."

The dimple in his left cheek comes out as he smiles, "A nerd, you mean? Don't worry, I take pride in being a nerd."

She's impressed. "Are you always this dark?"

His smile grows wider. "Oh no, I'm one of a kind."

The smile she flashes him in response is wolfish and sharp, her fingers ghosting over his. "And does that come with a one of a kind name?"

"Not as one of a kind as Pacifica," he teases.

"If you like that, then you'll love my number," she retorts.

Something flickers in his eyes for a second. He furrows his eyebrows at her in deep thought. "You're still flirting with me...Why are you still flirting with me?"

Another smile. "Do you really need to ask wh—"

"I can't believe this!" He snaps, "You don't remember me, do you?"

She's taken aback by his sudden burst of anger. "Sorry, am I supposed to?"

"No," he sighs and slumps back on his chair, dejected. "No, I guess not. I mean, I've known you for three years, but I guess I shouldn't have thought you would..."

"Three years? Are you sure?" She tilts her head in a scrutinizing look. "This whole skater-hipster-brainiac look isn't ringing any bells for me."

He frowns. "And here I thought the whole 'vapid, narcissistic Barbie brat' thing was all a facade."

The insult surprises her, especially coming from this 'stranger'. But what's more surprising is that it actually hurts. "Look, I'm sorry I don't recognize you, but can you at least tell me your name? So I can give you a proper apology."

The only sound between them is the sloshing of his milkshake as he stirs it.

Pacifica sighs in frustration, "Fine, then, be that way. But for what it's worth, I really am sorry, California."

He pauses, still not looking up. "California?"

Her lips quirk up. "It's cute. It suits you."

With a jolt, he looks up at her as if a light bulb went off in his head. "What are you doing here all alone, Pacifica?"

It's her turn to look down in discomfort, "Ah, I was wondering when you'd get around to that."

She laughs but it's a mirthless sound — thick and hollow.

Worry etches onto his face, and she waves her hand with impatience. "I'm traveling alone."

"To where, exactly?"

"Washington."

"What's in Washington?"

She shrugs, "It's not here."

He nods. He's polite enough to disguise it, but she can see the cogs turning in his mind, picking apart her words. "But everything here is home."

She leans over the table with her arms folded. "I always take spontaneous road trips before the end of summer."

He looks quizzical, "Alone?"

"Oh," it seems like her point has finally dawned on him. "So you're looking for a new perspective on things?"

"On life, yes, exactly," she proclaims with delight.

"Cheers to that, then," he lifts his milkshake jokingly. She clinks her ice cream cup with his. "To traveling alone?" She nods, "To traveling alone."

That's when he finally, finally laughs.

It's small and quiet, but it's honest. And it makes her smile, feeling like it might burst through her.

In this moment, she is enjoying herself with a not-quite-stranger, late at night, as summer is about to come to a close. She's just narrowly missed the train, but she's past the point of caring. Because here is a new friend and a new adventure right in front of her.

They swap stories and share ideas for what feels like hours and hours on end, all fireworks and chatter and twinkling eyes. She likes this kind of happy. She thinks maybe she could get used to it.

He glances at his watch. "My train leaves at 9. I better get going."

They both get up from their seats with sad smiles.

"It was nice meeting you, Pacifica." He ruffles his hair, "Even though, you know, I've already met you three years ago."

"You, too," She laughs, a bit embarrassed. "I'll walk with you. I'm waiting by the benches, anyway."

And they make their way outside with unhurried steps. The station has quieted down since the last hour, but the lively noise is still present. The chatter of the people, the shuffle of footsteps against the pavement.

They stop right in front of platform five.

She feels unsure of herself. He seems vulnerable, even shy, as they face the inevitable.

Pacifica bites her lip, putting on a false, bright voice. "I guess this is it?"

"Guess so. I really..." He shuffles his feet. "You know."

Nervous giggles from her. "I know. Me too."

A beat.

"I wish we met earlier," he says.

She doesn't know what to make of the slump in her stomach, so she simply smiles. "I know. Me too."

Neither of them says anything for a long moment, their minds racing.

She tries hard to keep the despondency out of her voice when she tells him, "Get home safely, okay? Hug your family, call your friends, have fun with everything."

"I will. Good luck on your trip and everything. I hope you'll, uh—" he clears his throat. "I hope you'll love it.

There's another tense beat.

"I hate this," he tells her with a pained look on his face.

"I know," she fights the tightness of her throat. "Your train is about to leave."

Her sad, smiling eyes look into his hopeful brown ones. They smile, knowing that they've changed in unexpected ways.

With nothing more to say, they part, and he turns to walk up the stairs to his train car with tentative steps.

Pacifica comes back, breathless. "Wait, wait! I-I..." She blushes uncharacteristically. So does he. "I can't say goodbye when I don't even know your name yet."

He grins despite himself. "Sure you do. I'll give you a clue." He takes out a blue and white cap from his backpack and smirks knowingly.

"What? That makes no sense!" She laughs.

He laughs, too, but the train is sounding behind him. "I'm sorry, I really got to go now." He slings his bag over his shoulder with haste.

And maybe it's wishful thinking, but when he turns to get one last look at here, she sees something like heartbreak on his face.

He tips his hat at her like she's the best show in the world. "I'll see you again sometime, Pacifica?"

She nods happily, and he climbs up the steps once more. This time, he doesn't look back, and the door slides closed behind him. As the train pulls out of the station, she watches it disappear into the horizon, waving goodbye.

Pacifica smiles, "See you next summer, California."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the much improved "subway station" chapter I promised! Some of you may have read this one already because I posted it before, but it's been heavily edited since then. From here on, chapters will be updated every three days. Thanks so much for reading and supporting this story!
> 
> (On a completely random note: guess who's obsessed with Heathers the Musical?)
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	4. it's worth it, it's divine (i have this some of the time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Pacifica meet in the most unexpected of places: her bath tub.

Pacifica Northwest slips past the crowd with a bottle of red in her hand and expertly makes her way up her mansion's staircase. She so desperately wants to evade the mass of the rich and famous chattering away and clinking their glasses below her, the waiters dashing from every corner of the room. The small group of musicians all play to fill the room with a romantic, classical melody as she quickly hops up the steps in search of an isolated, quiet space all to herself.

Suits in sleek ties and gelled back hair converse by the hall, while some ladies kiss each other's cheeks and giggle at something over by the balcony. A few of them she recognizes. Donors from her mother's charity events. Faces from her father's business meetings. Pacifica has politely excused herself and makes her way past them and into her room.

She turns the door knob and curses under her breath when it doesn't open. "Just my luck," she thinks. "I left my keys in the cabinet downstairs."

With a sigh, the girl opts to take her chances and hides away inside the bathroom instead.

"It's occupied. Go away." A familiar baritone pipes from behind the shower curtains.

"You can't kick me out of my own bathroom," the blonde replies, locking the door behind her.

The navy blue-and-gold drapery pulls back to reveal a tan-skinned, messy haired brunette, all dressed up in a sleek black tux and bow tie as he sits cross legged in the bath tub. "Pacifica?"

She almost cracks a smile at the sight.

"Pines," the girl nods in acknowledgement, moving closer. "You should've locked if you really wanted to be alone."

"Yeah, well, next time I want to quarantine myself inside your bathroom, I'll remember." He opens his palms to her, offering her help with the bottle. Pacifica rolls her eyes but hands it to him nonetheless. He opens it effortlessly and she grabs a glass from the medicine cabinet.

He cocks his eyebrow in question.

"Mum likes to drink champagne when she has bubble baths," Pacifica shrugs.

Dipper smirks and, folding his sleeves up to his elbows, gets up to pour her a glass. Not even standing to his full height, he still looms over her in stature. Sometimes it still surprises her how much he's grown up in the past couple of years.

His hair is messier now, complexion darker. His jaw is more defined and his shoulders broader. When he smiles at her from his chalice, his smoky dark chocolate eyes gleam.

"Montoya Cabernet," he notes. "Not too shabby."

Pacifica scoffs and they both settle into the bathtub. "So what brings you to my humble little lavatory?"

"I could say the same for you. Shouldn't you be out there, I don't know, chatting up Marion van Funschmuckle or something?"

She tips her glass back and drinks. "It's Marius, and isn't he dating your sister's friend Gretel?"

"Grenda."

"Whatever," the girl waves her hand dismissively. "Anyway, it might come as a shock to you, but after seventeen years of this, I am a tad sick of these black tie events."

"Ah, I see. And that's how you found yourself in this predicament?"

"Yup, that's why I'm here. Sitting in a bath tub, drinking wine and swapping stories with none other than the likes of mystery detective extraordinaire." Pacifica pauses with her forehead creased, and she shakes her head. "Actually, no. I'm too sober for this."

She reaches for the Cabernet between them and poises it on her lips.

"That's probably not a very good idea," Dipper eyes her apprehensively.

"Hm. Good thing I didn't ask you, then." She smiles at him then, tips the bottle back and gulps down the warm, bubbling liquid. He lets out a breath of disbelief.

"Mmmhm," she hums in pleasure and savors the taste on her tongue.

Curiosity piqued by her enjoyment of the drink, Dipper takes a sip from his glass and accommodates the taste. Prior to tonight, he had never drank any alcohol before, especially not red wine this old and fine. The only thing available to him was an old bottle of scotch and whiskey Grunkle Stan kept locked away inside his room. Wendy and her friends had a few bottles of Corona every now and then, but the smell had always been off putting to him, so he never dared take a sip. Now though, he appreciates the rich and supple flavor dancing on his tongue.

Dipper looks over Pacifica. Her hair is now in a messy half ponytail, wispy sunflower blonde curls cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall and falling over clear, crystal blue orbs. Her lips are stained cherry red with the wine and the corners of her mouth tilt up to smile at him.

He feels his face burning up, but whether it was from the wine or the sight of the girl across him, he wasn't sure. She offers him a silent question.

He let out a deep breath and runs his fingers through his perfectly gelled back hair, mussing it up. "Old Man McGucket invited Grunkle Stan and Uncle Ford here tonight, and I guess, Uncle Ford thought I might need a break from this case that we've been handling ― it's been two weeks, see, and we still haven't cracked it ― and I suppose he was a little worried for me, too. I mean, I have been kind of getting antsy lately. I think maybe he thinks I'm sort of obsessed with it at the moment, but-but ― I mean, how could you not be when―" he was practically shouting now, "W-W-When the evidence makes no sense. No sense! And trust me, I know, because I've reviewed all of it. Thoroughly. Eighteen times. Which, okay, fine, might have been a little excessive but―"

Dipper stops to catch his breath and Pacifica laughs, nudges the bottle towards him. He frowns.

"Look at you," she gestures at him. "You're all wound up."

The boy nods slowly and accepts the offer. He's not sure who's more surprise when he wolfs down a big, ravenous gulp - him or the wide eyed blonde across him. When he swallows, his face crumples and he breaks out into a coughing fit. Pacifica, on the other hand, laughs unabashedly.

"Bravo! Bravo!" she claps, and he curtsies a bit in his place. "You have just entered the cusp of adulthood. Bravo to you, fine sir!"

"And bravo to you as well, my lady, I wouldn't have made it without you."

When the laughter dies down, they gladly let companionable silence envelope them. They stay like that for a while; the sound of nothing but slow, even breaths and the wine swishing inside the bottle they pass around to ease their tension.

Dipper is the first to speak.

"I don't know if you remember this, but uh..." he trails off and shakes his head, loosening the bow tie around his neck. "Back in...uh...Creative Writing, freshman year, you read your poem in class?"

"Oh, that." A nervous huff of laughter bubbles up in her throat. "I've forgotten all about that," she lies easily.

"I'm Still Here," He doesn't miss a beat. "That was the title. It was a beautiful poem, I couldn't forget it even if I tried."

Pacifica swishes the wine inside her glass. "Well, Mr. Carlton said I captured Robert Frost's 'poetic voice' well enough, and I got an A."

He then begins to recite some of the lines back to her. " _I caught the glimpse of a smile that looked like the open road I wanted to drive on forever, the flash of eyes like chasing dreams, and promises I try hard not to remember_."

"I really felt that," Pacifica says it so quietly he almost doesn't hear.

He smiles at her sleepily. "Was it inspired by anything?"

The moment he says it, the blonde girl looks up immediately. There is expectation on his face. Or perhaps flattery. Humor. Maybe even flirting. But of course she does what she always does when sparks of something else fly between them in the few, fleeting moments like these they've had over the years.

She takes a gulp, and simply brushes it off. "Yeah. Robert Frost."

He looks like he wants so much to tell her he wasn't using a line, that he wondered if she wrote it thinking of arguments over Chemistry homework and lost debates and lunch dates and late afternoons under the shade. Wonders if that poem was born out of the hope that maybe they were meant for more than lingering glances and unsaid words and missed opportunities, moments lost in time. If she wanted that hope to live forever.

(Or perhaps, her wishful thinking. Hasn't been the first time.)

Instead, Dipper simply shakes his head and laughs. "I think I'm drunk."

"Cheers, to good wine and good company," she says, lifting the Cabernet. Her smile looks sad, but he's too afraid to wonder why. And so he clinks his glass with hers and swallows down the uneasiness bubbling up in his throat, pushing it back down with the sweet taste.

Liquid courage at it's finest. "Cheers."

* * *

  **"I'm Still Here"  
** _a poem by Pacifica Northwest_

That day you weren't there

I sat by myself  
At our same old table  
By the window  
With a view  
And I wondered  
If you even remembered  
If your mind still lingered  
On me  
And past  
Memories

Tell me,  
How is it  
That you can make me  
Feel so sad  
Just by looking  
At a cup of  
Coffee?  
It looks so lonely  
Over there  
Waiting  
For you

In the crowd  
I caught a glimpse  
Of a smile -  
It looked like the open road  
I wanted to drive on  
Forever  
The flash of eyes  
Like chasing dreams  
And promises  
I try hard  
Not to remember

Because then I think  
That I might have  
Given up  
On the whole idea of  
Romantic love  
That I might have  
Put it to bed  
And kissed it  
Good night  
That day  
You weren't there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the rest to come soon and quickly, probably some time within this week, so keep tuning in! The poem is mine, by the way, please ask for permission before you use it anywhere. Thanks and hope you enjoyed reading this. Stay gold.
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	5. (this love is like) wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper just wants to do his homework in peace when a certain millionaire heiress walks into his usual scene. He's amazed how eloquent Pacifica can be, even with a raging hangover.

It is 9 A.M. on a Saturday morning. The regulars of Greasy's Diner are all in their usual places. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Darland munch their donuts and chit chat happily to start the day; in a nearby table, keeping to himself as he reads the paper and eats his waffles is Tate McGucket; and tucked away in a corner are Mayor Tyler Cutebiker and Toby Determined, laughing as they share stories over coffee.

Last, of course, is seventeen-year-old detective Dipper Pines.

While he knows most high schoolers prefer the more swanky places uptown, Dipper likes it here, he thinks, sitting by the bar stools with his homework spread out on the counter. Here, they don't serve meager meal portions or charge you $2.95 for a cup of coffee. Most people only smile or wave in courtesy and no one bothers you too much. The jukebox by the window - with it dusty, blue coating and flickering chrome candy-colored lights - fills the restaurant with 80s music (after some much needed banging and shaking), and the wooden floors creak happily under his feet. Most importantly, Greasy's Diner is homey and folksy and free of all the town's usual hustle and bustle.

The monsters and mysteries don't follow him here.

Lazy Susan greets him happily as she walks over, "Morning, Dipper." She's been extra cheery ever since he exorcised that demon from her cat Sandy last week.

Dipper doesn't look up from his papers, but there's a polite tone to his voice when he says, "Morning, Susan."

"So what'll it be today?"

"Just coffee, thanks."

Her sunniness falters. "This early in the morning?"

He nods. "Just coffee, thanks."

The waitress puts her hands on her hips. "Have you had anything else to eat?"

"Just coffee, thanks."

"Coffee with breakfast?" She smiles in encouragement. "C'mon, this one's on the house."

He doesn't look up from his paper, trying hard not to frown. Instead, he grimaces. "Just – coffee – thanks."

With a sigh, she leaves and he goes back to scrawling formulas happily on his paper. He's so engrossed with his work that he fails to notice the chime of the doorbells as a new customer enters. Everyone else has gone quiet, watching as Pacifica Northwest uncharacteristically plods her way to the counter with sluggish steps. She didn't look much like herself today, clad in nothing but tennis shoes and a romper, her messy froth of blonde hair tied in a bun coming apart.

She sits down on the stool next to him.

"Morning," he greets more out of courtesy than actual greeting.

Beside him, Pacifica makes a groggy little noise and rubs the dark spots from her eyes.

He finally looks up then, surprised to find her of all people having breakfast here. He chews the inside of his lip in thought. "You okay, Northwest?"

"Shhh! Don't talk so loud," the girl moans, a crease forming on her forehead. She rubs it with annoyance."My head is pounding. God."

"SORRY, IS THIS QUIET ENOUGH?"

Everyone turns to look their way, but neither of them notice. She punches him on the shoulder – "Ugh, asshole!" – and he gives a good-natured laugh and a shrug. Not bothering to ask at all, she then takes a swig of his coffee in retaliation.

Pacifica is particularly testy this sunny Saturday morning, he ponders, which usually means –

"Someone's enjoyed themselves a little too much last night."

She returns the mug with a scoff, declaring proudly, "I have no remorse whatsoever. A hangover is a rite of passage. One I'm sure you've never fulfilled" – she eyes him with a quirk of her lips –"Among other things."

He chokes on his coffee.

Lazy Susan arrives not long after. "What can I get you?"

Pacifica winces at the volume of her voice but doesn't comment, and it surprises him. Last time he saw her, she couldn't even lend him a pen without a back-handed compliment.

"I'll have a mushroom cheeseburger with barbecue rum sauce on top, a plate of mozzarella onion rings, and a cherry-vanilla milkshake. And for dessert, one slice of lemon blueberry pie."

She then turns to him, poises the question vaguely with her fingers. "As for him, he'll be having...?"

He shakes his head, more at Lazy Susan than Pacifica. "Nothing. I'm good."

She ignores him and puts on a dazzling smile, "Settled, then. Some curly fries, a chicken salad sandwich, and a glass of lemonade for my friend please."

Once everything is scribbled down and double checked, Lazy Susan leaves. She makes sure to wink Dipper's way though, and he makes a show of examining the water rings under his mug.

Pacifica tips her head and massages the bridge of her nose. Out of the blue, she says, "It's cube, by the way."

"Excuse me?"

She gestures to his unsolved problem. "5x over 7x plus 9 – cube."

Dipper checks the solution again and finds the values to be equal. There's a look of triumph on her face when he finishes.

"I didn't know calculus interested you," she says as she twirls a straw in her fingers.

"The entire universe interests me," he's still frowning. "Calculus is just one of the many ways to understand it."

"But there are other, much more interesting ways, too. Like art or film or literature."

He's amazed how eloquent Pacifica can be, even with a raging hangover. "How smashed were you, exactly?"

"Think I passed out on top of my piano," she offers as an explanation.

"Aren't you grounded? What are you going to do when daddy finds out you're here, much less throwing a party while he's away?"

"I find that it's better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, but for the record, I am asking for neither." Blonde strands fall out from her loose bun as she leans forward on the table with a devilish smile. "Besides, I'm on a bit of a strike, maxing out all his credit cards."

"Explains why you're randomly buying strangers breakfast this morning."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you. You're still answering those lab reports for Chemistry."

He feigns a whine. "Can't I repay my debt by furnishing your living room or something?"

"Are you implying my decorating taste isn't up to par?"

"Eh, I don't know," Dipper says with a non-committal hand gesture.

Pacifica squints at him in warning. "What do you know about interior design anyway, _Pines_? For all I know, you probably spend most your time tinkering away in some shoddy, old abandoned warehouse or whatever."

A pause.

He gives her a suspicious look, "Are you trying to trick me into telling you where my lab is?"

(He's referring, of course, to the underground laboratory behind the Mystery Shack vending machine.)

"Why? It's not like I care," she declares, but he can see her covering her smile with her hand.

He counts that as a victory, tongue poking out his lips playfully.

Pacifica wrinkles her nose at his delight. "When did you get so annoying?"

"I've always been this annoying," He leans closer, his smile broadening. "You've only just started paying attention."

"Oh? Who says I'm paying you any attention?"

"Well, if you aren't," His voice turns low and smooth, barely over a whisper. "Then the real question there is: why not?"

There's a beat.

A beat of nothing but the cogs turning in her mind and the deafening pounding of his heart. He realizes, in what felt like a sudden rush of blood to his brain, how forward he had just been.

She stops for a moment to fix him a calculating look. He holds her gaze in spite of the heat flooding his face, crimson red. He almost leaves, then and there, when the Pacifica starts to laughs.

Dipper tries very hard to hide the heaving of his chest as he sighs in relief. He laughs along nervously.

She insists that he's an absolute moron and he calls her out for her questionably large appetite. And amidst all their giggling and teasing, somewhere under the counter top their knees touch and send electric jolts up his spine, and he has never, ever talked to anyone quite like this before.

"You did not make out with Peggy Bradford in ninth grade," Pacifica shrieks as he finishes telling her about the hijinks of his eighth-grade year

Dipper cringes at what was definitely not his proudest moment."

Her mouth gapes open in gleeful surprise. "You are shitting me right now. Tell me you're shitting me right now! Braceface Bradford? Really?"

"Hey, don't judge me! I was awkward and needy and desperate for love!"

"At fifteen? What, afraid you'll die an old spinster with nothing but your Battlestar Galactica game board to keep you company?"

"One time, in Algebra class, Mrs. Irvine called me Dylan and I was so embarrassed I didn't bother to correct her. So for the rest of the year, I went around school as _Dylan Pines, nice to meet you_."

Pacifica roars with laughter, but at least she has the decency to look sympathetic about it.

"And I mean, okay, sure, Peggy was like, the eighth prettiest girl in Home Ec and her braces hurt me a bit when we'd kiss. But she said I was funny and her hair smelled like cinnamon and" – he holds his finger up for dramatic effect – "she actually called me Dipper without needing to be told."

"So basically, your only criteria for liking a girl is for her to acknowledge your existence?"

"it was a social pariah, freshman year! Being noticed was like, the ultimate, undying proclamation of love back then."

"Oh, please," Pacifica rolls her eyes. "She was a tuba-playing tramp of a loser who singled you out because all the other girls probably had boyfriends already and you were easy pickings."

He gives her a wounded look. "Just because she's in band club she's automatically a loser?"

"Are you even hearing yourself?"

Dipper is about to retort something witty when Lazy Susan arrives with their orders. They thank her through barely hidden smiles and chuckles, and the waitress leaves with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Pacifica stirs her milkshake, seemingly oblivious to Dipper's blushing. "So how come you've never dated anyone yet? Nobody caught your eye?"

He composes himself by chewing on some curly fries, and slowly, admits, "There were a few, but they never really lasted long. Once I figure someone out, I grow bored of them."

"Oh, well, that's a shame," she says sounding genuinely apologetic.

"Yeah, uh..." Dipper rubs the nape of his neck at the hot, prickling sensation. He takes a long, slow sip of his lemonade, his mouth suddenly going dry. "Maybe someday I'll meet someone I can't figure out. Who knows?"

"Maybe someday."

Before Pacifica has time to dig any deeper, Dipper redirects the conversation. "You're one to talk, anyway. I could count on one hand all your dating disasters."

"What? No way, I —"

"That motorbiking convict wannabe Malcolm Rutledge?"

"He was a bad boy! Everybody loves a bad boy!"

"Not an alcoholic, nicotine-addicted juvenile! Besides, we both know you just dated him for the street cred. You two were barely even in the same room together."

"Alright, fine. I'll give you that but —"

"Summer before junior year, Avery Carmichael?"

"He was a tortured artist and I was —"

"The only one who truly understood him for the complexity that he was?" Dipper scoffs. "Yeah, sure, you...and Stacy...and Katherine...and Jillian...and Em—"

"Alright, alright! I get it!" She bites back a smile. "But, you know, he was only flirting with me. I never dated him, so that means I'm home free."

He clicks his tongue in disagreement. "You think I forgot about Edmund Radcliffe? That guitar-playing slacker got held back so many years because he failed fifteen classes. He was like, what, 20 when you were still 17?"

"Yeah, he was a mess," Pacifica sighs dreamily. "A hot mess, though."

Dipper flicks some lettuce at her and she laughs.

"Doesn't take away from the fact that I've dated girls hotter than you and all your chess club combined."

"Don't you dare insult my chess club!" He proclaims dramatically. He squirts some ketchup her and she deflects it with her tray, cackling.

Lazy Susan smiles as she watches the pair go at it from where she's cleaning coffee cups. She wonders when was the last time she was ever that young and in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viola! Please leave me your thoughts and reviews, it would really mean a lot. Hope you enjoy this one. I love you all!
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	6. cross my heart (hope to die)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper Pines is a stuck-up Ravenclaw prefect and Pacifica Northwest is a headstrong, reckless Gryffindor Chaser. Two of Hogwarts' most brilliant minds who just happen to completely loathe each other. Or so it seems. (reverse falls!au, hogwarts!au)

"Woah, woah, woah! Not the pumpkin pasties!"

The voice jars Pacifica awake, and abruptly, she opens her eyes in a blinking daze. There's a dainty little hand on her cheek and she furrows her eyebrows at the blonde sitting next to her.

"Wuh…Star…?" She mumbles, still half-asleep.

The girl in question gives a smug smile. "I just saved you from face-planting into a bowl of pumpkin pasties. You're welcome."

Pacifica nods. It takes her awhile to remember why she has a quill in my hand, but when she does, her eyes widen, "Shit! What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning," the girl across her answers, another blonde. But it wasn't golden or sunflower blonde like Star and Pacifica; it was short, wavy bleached blonde hair with aquamarine streaks. She chuckles as Pacifica scrambles to pick up where she left off and starts scribbling furiously.

"That means I only have two hours left until Potions. Shitshitshit," Pacifica can't swear enough as she half-asses her way through her eighth paragraph, more than a thousand words away from the minimum. At this point, she's close to tears.

"Maybe you should take a break. You haven't eaten anything," Jackie offers her a scrumptious looking corned beef sandwich. Pacifica's too afraid to look at it; the smell of sweet, savory meat alone is making her weak.

She clenches my fingers around her quill, strengthening her resolve. "Didn't you hear me? I have a four-thousand essay on how to brew Veritaserum. I stayed up all night making this, and still, I haven't finished!"

Star, on the other hand, is unfazed as she happily munches down the rest of her breakfast. "It's just a paper, Pacifica. Not the end of the world."

"Okay, Jackie can say that to me, but  _you_  can't, Miss-Straight-B student," Pacifica rolls her eyes at Star, not bothering to look up from where she's writing. "Besides, I flunked my midterms, so this is my last chance to get a decent mark."

"Hey Star, since you're done, why don't you just let Pacifica copy off of you?" Jackie suggests. "You finished your paper, right?"

Star nods happily, "And it only took me thirty minutes. I slept like a baby."

"Don't you mean it only took you thirty minutes to copy off of Marco?" Jackie smiles slyly.

"Hey, I tried for the first fifteen! But Potions just isn't my forte, okay?" She hands over the roll of parchment with a flourish. "Enjoy."

Pacifica glances from her outstretched hand and then back up to her. "Oh, I could kiss you right now," she declares joyously – and she really means it, too – but she settles for a hug instead, wrapping her arms tight around Star and squealing at the top of her lungs.

With newfound hope and lifted spirits, she begins rephrasing and rewriting Star's paper as her own. Across the table, Jackie is tilting her head to read some passages of writing from Marco's essay. "Wow. I always knew Marco was smart, but I never knew he knew so much about Potions."

"Oh, he struggles with it, too, a little. He told me there was some stuff he didn't quite get so he copied some stuff from Dipper."

Pacifica stops writing mid-sentence. "Pines?"

"Oh, no," she hears Jackie sigh faintly.

Star casts a glance between the both of them, confused. "Yeah, but don't worry. Marco tells me he's like, the smartest guy in his Potions class, so– "

Pacifica returns the paper back to her with a frown, "Yeah, no thanks. I'd sooner flunk the class on my own that get any help from him."

"Wha–?  _But why nooot_?" She whines.

"Because as 'smart' as you say he is, he is a prick and an egomaniac, and it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about him," Pacifica says coldly, and she makes a big show of dipping her quill in ink and starting over her paragraph.

"Pacifica, come on, this is ridiculous. You need to pass Potions and Star is giving you all the answers! So what if a tiny bit of it is from him? He'll never know anyway," Jackie reassures her.

"But I'd know! And I'll loathe myself till the day Gideon wins a Quidditch tournament if I'd owe him for passing this class."

"Stop being such a baby." Jackie pushes the parchment at her.

Star shoots her an appraising look as she spreads the jelly on her toast. "What's the big deal between you two anyway? Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't," Pacifica says coolly. "If I gave him much thought, I probably would."

The two other girls exchange knowing looks.

Just then, a dark-haired Slytherin girl shows up. "Morning, ladies."

Star hugs her in greeting. "Janna Banana is here!"

"'Sup Jan?" Jackie nods.

"Morning," Pacifica answers miserably, going back to her paper.

She sits down and scrunches her eyebrows at the blonde. "What's up with her?"

"Oh, Pacifica's just got her knickers in a twist because she's choosing to flunk Potions than copy off of Dipper."

"Oh?" Janna smirks, "Pines has your knickers in a twist?"

Pacifica blushes. "Shut up, Janna, I'm trying to concentrate."

They snicker, but she ignores it.

"I can't believe you're still on about that," Janna drinks her pumpkin juice with a bored look on her face.

"Dipper Pines is the most arrogant, entitled, bigoted, pretentious, scum of the Earth I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! He think he's hot shit, the way he struts as if he and his sister own the place, ugh! He just makes me so - so - " Pacifica buries her face in her hands and screams.

"Yeah, 'much thought' my ass, Northwest," Jackie mumbles.

Star snickers. "So when are you guys announcing your engagement?"

"Shut up, you guys! It's not funny!"

Much to Pacifica's annoyance, the teasing didn't stop until  _after_  she hurled her shoes at them.

* * *

"How can you fail Flying Lessons? Twice?" Wirt says with a twitch of his mouth.

"I don't like heights," Dipper glowers at his friend.

"So Mister Gleeful said you had to take special lessons with him every week?" Marco asks.

Dipper nods miserably, fiddling with his broomstick.

"Man, you've got it easy. If I failed a subject twice, I'd still be a first year."

"He would have if Professor Ford hadn't pulled the strings for him," Wirt smirks. "So what time did Mister Gleeful tell you you'd meet?"

"Five-thirty. But he said he'd have a student teach me instead, said he had his hands full training the Quidditch teams."

"Which student?" Marco asks curiously.

As if on cue, Pacifica taps Dipper on the shoulder and flashes him a winning smile.

"Oh, of course," Dipper moans in agony. "It had to be you."

"Looks like it's your lucky day, Pines," She gloats, but turned to nod at the other two. "Hey Marco, Wirt. You taking lessons, too?"

"Nah, I've got Divination with Professor Blendin," Marco says.

"And I have History of Magic with Professor Trembley," Wirt answers.

Pacifica nods. "Ah, well, it was good seeing you."

"You, too," Marco gives her a lopsided grin. "Wish we could stay and watch the show."

With that, the pair give Dipper a reassuring clap on the shoulder as they leave, snickering.

"This is the worst," he grumbles.

Pacifica looks affronted. "Hey! I'll have you know I am one of the best fliers Hogwarts has ever seen, let alone the best flier in the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Not exactly the humblest though, are you?" Dipper sneers.

She rolls her eyes. "Just...get on your damn broom!"

"Alright, let's get this over and done with." He reaches his hand out expectantly to her.

"What?" She asks suspiciously.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake – the broom!" Dipper answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Last time I checked, I didn't bloody well sprout wings, now did I? So are you going to hand it over or not?"

Pacifica looks at her broom and clutches it tightly to her chest. "No way in hell am I letting you touch my Firebolt!"

"Then how exactly do you expect me to fly?"

"On this," She hands him a dingy, rundown looking school-owned broomstick instead. "Cleansweep Five. It's ancient, but...well, it flies...somewhat..."

"You're terrible," Dipper narrows his eyes at her. "You're a terrible, terrible person."

Pacifica feigns an angelic expression.

After much slipping and cursing and fighting (against both her and the broomstick), Dipper soon learns to mount it carefully, with his hands gripping tight on the handle and his feet ready to kick off.

"You look like you've just been petrified. You're not even off the ground yet," Pacifica says, sounding more amused than she should be.

Dipper clenches his jaw, but she only gives him another insufferable grin.

"Okay, hold tight. On the count of three, you take off, alright?"

"W-W-Wait! Aren't you...Aren't you coming with me?" Dipper demands.

She laughs in disbelief. "You and I are seeing the same broom, right? Any more weight on this and it'll break in half."

"I-I don't think I'm re-"

"Okay, THREE!" Pacifica exclaims and, with a flourish of her wand, she sends the broomstick flying off the ground. She can't decide what's louder: his screams, or her laughter.

* * *

"Dipper, if you don't stop squirming, I'm going to strangle you," Mabel warns.

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's inevitable," She swats her brother's hand away from his collar.

He rolls his eyes at his twin sister's antics. She sighs and tosses the thirteenth tie over his shoulder.

"I really don't understand why this is taking so long," Dipper says impatiently as Mabel sifts through another pile of ties.

"It's the most important day of Mum's life," Mabel sounds rehearsed when she answers. "We need to look absolutely flawless."

"Mabel, I'd hardly call it a milestone. She's gotten married twice now."

Mabel waves her hand dismissively, "That's besides the matter."

"Fine, but let's take a break." Dipper sits down and rubs the bloodshot out of his eyes. "I'm exhausted."

Mabel begins to frown, but he closes his hands around her wrists and pulls her down beside him.

"Oh, alright," Mabel concedes. She sounds more tired than angry. "All this planning is really taking a toll on me. Yesterday, Mum nearly had a meltdown because one of the flowers for the centerpiece was missing. One. Flower."

Dipper chuckles as he rubs her shoulder soothingly.

"I had to talk her off the ledge for hours and let her cry to me about how the wedding was ruined and she was never going to be happy again."

"Wow. I'd take being choked to death over being her maid of honor any day."

As Mabel laughs weakly, tucking her hair behind her ear, something from the pile catches Dipper's eye. It's made of black silk with silver pinstripes.

Dipper pulls it out. "Dad's favorite tie," he says quietly.

Mabel bites her lip as Dipper puts it on. She fastens it around his neck and smiles like her heart is swelling, "Perfect."

Dipper smiles back at his sister, looks down at his feet. Out of the blue, he shoots a look Pacifica's way, and she quickly averts her eyes. She felt like she was eavesdropping on a private moment.

* * *

It's midday on a Tuesday, and Pacifica is having Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Ford. Sitting beside her is her cousin Gideon. Gideon is in the middle of saying something (and of course, it being Gideon and all, Pacifica wasn't really paying attention) when the Professor calls her attention.

"Yes, Professor?" Pacifica says, a bit embarrassed to be caught dozing off in class.

"I said it's strange that Dipper Pines is absent today," he gestures to the empty seat in the corner. "You wouldn't seem to have any idea where he is, would you, Pacifica?"

"None at all, Professor, but let's all take the time to hope to Merlin that the giant squid ate him when nobody was looking."

The class laughs.

"Young lady, that's not funny," Professor Ford says with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, don't worry Professor, I understand that you're reprimanding me." Pacifica feigns an angelic expression.

"Only officially, of course." He smiles and goes back to checking the rest of the students' attendance.

When the lesson ends, Pacifica can't help but glance at the empty seat and wonder.

* * *

Pacifica leaves her unmade bed and slips out of the room. It's the middle of the night as she walks through the portrait hole with quiet, careful steps.

Unexpectedly, she finds herself crashing into something and falling on her stomach with a loud thud.

"Son of a –" She bites her tongue to keep from making any more noise as she doubles over in the dark. Internally, she is screaming.

"Merlin's ass," someone groans beneath her. At that moment, she strings together every single curse word she knows in her head.

"Of course. It had to be you," she huffs.

"Northwest?" The unmistakable voice of Dipper Pines remarks groggily under her. He sits up and she rolls right off of him. "I swear, it's like I'm jinxed."

"Don't tempt me, Pines," she grumbles, getting up and dusting herself off. She's about to say more when he cuts her off, clasping his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet, or they'll catch us," he warns in a whisper.

She rolls her eyes but digresses. She fights the urge to bite down on his hand, and settles for slapping it away instead.

She's about to take off when Dipper picks up something from the floor and wraps it around his shoulders. She doesn't mean to, but she can't help but gaze at it in amazement a little, the way his body disappears as the fabric falls over him.

"An invisibility cloak," she says breathlessly.

In the dim low light of the passageway, she can see him eyeing her skeptically. There's a beat, and then, "You can admire it better from here." He holds out his arm, motioning for her to come under the cloak with him.

For a moment, she forces herself to forget that he is the unbearable, insufferable Dipper Pines, and simply, nods. They set off towards the castle grounds, careful to avoid any professor or ghost or portrait along their way.

As they're walking through the halls into the doorway where a patches of grass lay beyond, Pacifica eyes Dipper curiously. "Am I dreaming right now," she says before she can stop herself, "Or did you just interact with me in a way that wasn't even remotely spiteful?"

He scoffs, but there's a glint in his eyes that's halfway teasing, and still, she is in disbelief. "Maybe if you weren't such a loud mouth all the time, you'd actually notice when stuff happens around you. I'm nice to everyone. You're no exception."

She laughs at that, maybe a little too loudly. He pretends to trip her in retaliation. She steps on his foot.

"Maybe if  _you_  tried being a little nicer every once and a while, you might actually have people who cared about you."

Dipper shrugs, "I don't have to be nice to do that. I already have people who care about me, the real me. And stop smiling, Northwest, it's unnerving."

"You can be mean to me all you want, Pines, but I know your secret," she singsongs, wiggling her finger at him cheerfully.

"Oh really?" He raises his eyebrow at her in a challenge.

"Yup. You see, I know that beneath that cold, brooding facade you put on –"

"It's not a facade," he deadpans.

"You actually have a heart. You're every bit as human as the rest of us." she declares happily, adding, "With a few...er...missing ingredients here and there."

He lets himself chuckle at that one.

She tries not to feel too good about it.

"Like what?" He asks.

"Emotion. You have too little."

"I show too little. There's a difference."

"Some girls like that, you know. The aloof, cold-hearted bad boy. Is that why you do it?" There's a teasing smile there, and he loves it. She can tell by the way he's smirking at the floor.

"Why? Is it working?"

She laughs in surprise. "Not on me, it isn't. Come on, we're here."

They find a comfortable spot to sit in on in the open grounds, away from any prying eyes. He spreads out the cloak on the grass and she empties the contents of her bag between them. Out flows an assortment of food: mashed potatoes, treacle fudge, Yorkshire pudding, and of course, a half-gallon of butterbeer Pacifica had planned on drinking all by herself.

Dipper sits up quickly. "That's a lot of food," he says almost in reverence.

"I have a hearty appetite," She grins. "Eat up."

Treacle tart in his hands, he shoots her a questioning look. "How often do you steal from the kitchen?"

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to obliviate you," she answers seriously.

He shrugs and bites into his food, "Fair enough."

The pair waste no time digging into the tooth-rotting goodness in front of them.

Sometimes, Dipper Pines is a giant thorn in Pacifica's side. And Pacifica knows for a fact that she's no cherry sundae for him, either. It's never exactly been a walk in the park for the two of them, but in moments like these, they were okay.

Possibly even more than okay.

* * *

"Chance," Pacifica says with steely concentration.

Dipper picks up his piece slowly, eyes skimming across the board. A smirk dances on his lips. "Check mate."

"WHAT? I call bullshit!" Pacifica stands up in outrage.

Dipper's hands twitch, a learned reflex after Pacifica's less-than-great bouts of sportsmanship. Nonetheless, he smiles. "Face it, Northwest, I won."

"Run it through me again!"

With a sigh, Dipper complies, and when his knight takes her king, Pacifica sinks into her seat with a moan. "Damn it!"

He laughs triumphantly. "I win!"

"No, not yet!" She says quickly. "I demand a rematch. I demand a rematch right this instant!"

"Pacifica, this is our sixth rematch."

"Then a seventh won't matter then. Clear this up, we're starting over."

"How long has this been going on?"

Pacifica checks her watch, "Four hours and counting. Why?"

"Nothing," the corners of his mouth quirk up. "We should keep playing. God forbid, we'd find some other way to spend our time together."

"I know. We were coming deathly close to having an actual conversation awhile ago," she bites back her smile, moves her pawn. "Your move."

* * *

It's Saturday morning, and Pacifica is drying her hair in the bathroom when Jackie comes in to brush her teeth. They exchange a noncommittal "hey" before getting back to business, both too tired from yesterday to say much else.

Jackie is about to leave when she notices something in the mirror, pauses. "Fun party last night, huh, Paz?"

Pacifica shrugs it off, "Guess so. Honestly, after that legendary Hufflepuff victory party last year, all others pale in comparison and – You're looking at me weirdly."

She smirks, "You're wearing the wrong tie, slut."

Pacifica looks down at the blue and bronze tie she has on, clothes still unchanged from last night, and her eyes widen like saucers.

From the bedroom, Star squeals and comes bounding in. "Oh my gosh! Pacifica Elise Northwest, who did you snog last night?"

"N-no one! I hope! Oh god." Pacifca's face burns as she makes a run for it, but the two chase her outside the bathroom.

"Ooh la la, a Ravenclaw! Miss Prissy Northwest has a thing for the nerd herd!" Jackie cooes, howling with laughter.

"Girl, spill!" Star squeals.

"I-I can't! I don't remember!" She stutters with shame.

This only makes Jackie laugh even harder.

"Jackie-Lynn Thomas, I swear to Merlin, I –" Pacifica attacks her in the face with a pillow, but Jackie retaliates with her own blows. Pacifica dives to the floor to avoid it.

Above her, Star is bouncing up and down on her bed, giggling. "Who could it be? Ooh, Wirt Edlewood maybe?"

Jackie shakes her head, "Nah, too weird."

"Raya Rousley?"

Jackie scrunches her nose. "Too goth."

Star sighs dreamily, "Oskar Greason? Ooh I hope it's Oskar, just so I can know how it'd be like when I finally do kiss him."

"Star, you've barely even talked to the guy," Pacifica resigns from the floor.

"Yeah, but yesterday he asked me for directions and made" – she squeals – " _eye contact_ with me!" She falls to the bed with a happy little plop.

"Racy," Jackie snickers. "But my money's on Diaz. You two seemed a bit too chummy to me, Paz. And I heard from Janna that he's a great kisser."

"Marco? Really?" Pacifica says in a tone Marco would find offensive.

Star stops dancing and makes a face. "Ew, Jackie, no! Get that mental image out of my head!"

"What, Marco and Janna kissing? They never actually –"

"No, just – Marco kissing anyone. _Gross_!"

With that, Jackie roars, "Too late, Star! Marco's a total babe now and girls are definitely starting to notice. Hell, even I want to stick my tongue down his – "

Star covers her ears and sings at the top of her lungs, "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, LITTLE LAMB!"

Amidst all their singing and laughing and jumping, Pacifica shuts her eyes and tries to erase her memories of hands tangled in chocolate brown hair and warm lips pressed against her collar and sharp shallow breaths and oh god, what have I done?

Her face burns so much it makes her want to cry.

* * *

Wendy bangs the side of the tree with her fist, but the noise in the common room hardly settles. Today is Friday, and that means it's time for the weekly inter-house auction Wendy usually holds, where she makes a fortune selling smuggled goods from Honeydukes down in Hogsmeade Village where only a few people were allowed to go.

"Alright, alright,everybody settle down!" she yells at the bustling crowd of students. "We got a good stash this week. Now, first off is..."

She swings the bag off her shoulder and reaches into it. Jackie bangs her and Janna's wands against the benches to provide a drum roll.

"Ah! A chocolate cauldron!" Wendy announces. Murmurs break out instantly. "One lush, delectable box of sweet, sweet chocolate cauldrons! Do I hear any bids?"

"Five knutz!" Pacifica calls.

Instantly, all the other bidders put their coins away in defeat. Everyone knew by now that if Pacifica was bidding on something, they should all just back down. No ration is worth suffering her poisonous glares and jelly-legs jinxes.

"Five knutz from the lovely lady," Wendy winks at the blonde. "Going once...going twice..."

Pacifica giggles, giddy with excitement.

"Ten knutz!" A voice from the back challenges.

Small gasps break out and Pacifica whips her head around and narrows her eyes to face her competitor.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea as Dipper steps through. There's a defiant glint in his eyes.

Pacifica groans inwardly. Of course it would be him; Dipper's only vice was chocolate pudding.

"Ten knutz from the Ravenclaw Prefect himself!" Wendy exclaims with evident surprise.

Everyone's attention then shifts to Pacifica, waiting. She rises to the challenge and levels Dipper with a stern look. " _Fifteen_  knutz."

"Fiftee-"

"Twenty," Dipper retorts coolly.

Whispers run through the crowd, and Pacifica clenches her fist. "One galleon!" She says proudly. Pacifica sincerely hopes Dipper would accept defeat already, seeing as how that was all the money she had left.

But of course, like the little prick he is, he smirks. "One galleon and a half."

Someone from the back murmurs, "All for a box of chocolate cauldrons?"

Pacifica bites back a growl.

"One galleon and a half!" Wendy says almost half-heartedly. "Going once..."

Dipper cocks his eyebrow at her.

"Going twice..."

She glares daggers at him.

"Sold to the gentleman in blue!"

"Sorry," Jackie mouths to her friend before tossing Dipper the prize. Pacifica presses her lips together but says nothing as Wendy pulls out something else from her bag. She stays quiet for the rest of the auction.

Later, as the auction ends and the crowd disperses, Pacifica is making her way to her friends when Dipper catches up with her and stops her in her tracks.

He hands her a plastic spoon. She simply stares at it.

"What's this for?" She asks in irritation.

"We're going to share," he answers, and there's frankness in his tone, as if this was something they did every day and  _she_  was the one acting weird.

"And why is that?" Pacifica takes the spoon with an appraising look.

He peels off the lid and eats his first spoonful, shrugging. "No chocolate cauldron is worth suffering a bat bogey hex from you."

Without another word, she scoops into it gratefully.

* * *

Marco sits down at the Ravenclaw table and elbows his friends playfully. "So either of you got a date for the Winter Formal yet?"

"No," Wirt sighs miserably, casting a glance at Beatrice from Slytherin. "Haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Well, you'd better hurry up or all the good ones will be taken," Dipper says matter-of-factly as he digs into his poached eggs.

Wirt frowns at him. "Says the guy who's had a date for every single ball the moment he was born."

"Oh, I'm not going with Mabel this time," Dipper interjects nonchalantly.

"Dude," Marco says, "You can take a break from whatever it is you're working on for one night."

Wirt nods. "Yeah, whatever it is, it can wait. Come to the party and have some fun for a change."

"Honestly, these two," Dipper huffs under his breath. "I never said I wasn't going to the ball. I only said I wasn't going with Mabel?"

Marco blinks. "What, you mean like, with a date?"

Dipper nods without looking up from his breakfast.

"What? WHO?!" The two demand.

"Pacifica," Dipper declares promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"WHAT?!" exclaims Marco, half-amused, half-confused.

"You've already asked her?" Wirt says in disbelief.

Dipper pauses. "Good point." He calls over the girl in question. "Say, Paz, would you go come to the Winter Formal with me?"

Pacifica pauses, then shrugs. "Yeah, sure." She smiles and waves goodbye.

Wirt lets out a sputter of indignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers! It's been tooooo long! I have missed writing these. Before anything else, I'd like to thank everybody who helped me and filled out the survey for me, you're all so so wonderful! I was overwhelmed by the support. A thousand times over, thank you thank you thank you. Now, as promised, here's a new chapter!
> 
> In case you hadn't caught on, this is a Reverse Falls!AU as well as a Hogwarts!AU. I liked writing the first one so much, I made this! Once again, Pacifica is a Gryffindor and Dipper is a Ravenclaw. I also included characters from Star Vs. The Forces of Evil and Over The Garden Wall for supporting characters aka Dipper and Pacifica's friends. I personally think Star and Jackie would be Gryffindors, Marco and Wirt are Ravenclaws, and Janna and Beatrice are Slytherins. Oh, and ofc Mabel is a Hufflepuff (jeez, I really need to include Mabel more in these stories).
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Please leave your thoughts down below for me to know, I love hearing from my readers. Reviews fuel my muse! 'Till next time! Lots of love!
> 
> xoxo Amaya


	7. my love (you are my home and my world)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected visitors ruin Dipper and Pacifica's afternoon

Pacifica was pretty much fucked.

Actually, come to think of it, she thinks her fate was sealed the moment she knocked on the Mystery Shack door. She didn't even want to be there in the first place, but Dipper insisted that she come by and drop off the journal he left in Lab period that morning.

She knocks harder. "Helloooo? Anybody home?"

On the other side of the door is unmistakable clanking and crashing and breaking.

"Dipper?" She bangs against the doorknob. When it fails to budge, she quickly makes her way to the back door when all of a sudden, the boy in questions comes crashing through the window.

Dipper groans. He looks at her from where he's splayed on his back, upside down. "Hey," he greets breathlessly.

"Hey." She blinks. "Bad time?"

"No, just some uninvited guests."

"Alright. Mind if I join the fun?"

He gives her a small smile. "Sure, but it's not like I need the –" At that moment, Dipper is dragged back inside the window frame by his leg, screaming, "SON OF A –! Not the TV! Come on guys, be cool!"

Amidst all the swearing and smashing, Pacifica picks up some rocks and jumps in through the smashed window.

To say that the inside of the Mystery Shack looks like a hurricane swept by it seems like an understatement to Pacifica. All around them, there are shards of broken glass, broken vases, and smashed holes through the floor. The furniture is up turned and everything from clothes to books to pillows are scattered on the ground.

But what shocks Pacifica the most are the monsters standing the doorway. It's a large, red, muscular creature with two legs, four arms and two more on its head. Four beady yellow eyes and fanged teeth bare at Dipper as he wrestles the TV set from it. The house is filled with six or so of these strange creatures. She doesn't know what they are, but she's pretty sure she didn't like them.

She hurls a rock at the one harassing Dipper. It bends over in agony. Pacifica quickly drags Dipper away from it and together they head towards the underground lab.

She catches her breath just enough to ask, "Friends of yours?"

"Gazorpians," he says like that's supposed to mean something to her. He punches in a pass code for the vending machine, fumbling at the numbers. "They're from another dimension."

She raises her eyebrows but doesn't ask anymore. "Must be Tuesday."

Dipper's about to open his mouth to say something when he's interrupted by a roar.

Another Gazorpian had followed them here. Thinking fast, Pacifica picks up the first thing she can get her hands on – an umbrella – and spears it as hard as she can. The Gazorpian thrashes in pain and reaches for Pacifica. Luckily, she's fast enough to duck out of the way.

Unluckily, it ends up ripping out the keypad of the vending machine, instead. Dipper takes the umbrella from her and whacks the Gazorpian in the jaw, and then hard enough in the head that it collapses.

"Long story, short: don't travel to random dimensions," Dipper finishes.

"Where is everybody anyway?"

"Roadtrip to see a Sev'ral Timez concert." He hands her a switch blade. "Here."

Her eyes widen, "Where'd this come from?"

"Under the floorboard," Dipper says distractedly as he wraps her hands hastily. The noises grow louder above them; definitive sounds of smashing and roaring. He frowns. "Okay, since there's only seven of them left, the plan is to fight our way back upstairs and get outside."

She nods. "And then what?"

He shrugs, "Then we think up the rest of the plan. On three?"

"Dipper, that's a terrible– "

"THREE!"

He swings the door open and comes charging out in a sprint.

"Son of a bitch," she curses under her breath before running for it, too.

She makes it as far as the kitchen before a Gazorpian pounces on her. It pulls her by the hair and lifts her up off the ground. Writhing, she stabs it in the eye, and it drops her. Green slime comes spurting out. Pacifica grabs a plate to shield herself from it, and promptly breaks it on the Gazorpian's head. It falls to the ground.

She's about to pull out her knife from the creature's eye when Dipper warns her from across the room, "Don't! Gazorpian blood might be toxic for humans! Leave it."

"Great," she throws her arms up in exasperation. Already, another Gazorpian is making its way towards her. "What am I supposed to use now?"

"Surprise me," he jokes, dodging a hit and smashing a Gazorpian's head through the table.

"That'll be really funny when I'm dead." With a frustrated sigh, Pacifica fishes her pockets for another rock. She aims it at the approaching Gazorpian but another one suprises her from behind and wraps its arms around her waist. She screams and flings the rock blindly.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dipper shouts.

She jabs her elbow in the monster's nose, but it only grips her tighter, while the other one is holding her legs to stop her from kicking. A straight beam of light blasts through the Gazorpian locking her in its arms. Pacifica jumps to the floor as the other Gazorpian flees. There's a hole straight through the monster's skull.

In a second, Dipper is in front of her, holding out a hand to help her up. She takes it. In his other hand is a blaster pistol that looks like it came straight out of a Star Wars movie.

She whistles. "Sweet gun."

He grins but turns his attention back to the monsters. There's only three left. One of them, the one from earlier, grabs her leg and pulls it out from under her. As he's holding her upside down (geez, she's really sick of everyone holding her up today), she picks up a frying pan off of the table and whacks him with it.

It only makes it angrier, and the monster begins shaking her violently.

She hits it again with the frying pan, but nothing happens. "I could use a little help over here!"

Dipper throws her something. Her heart pounding, Pacifica grips the handle and, pointing it at the Gazorpian, flicks the switch.

"What the—?" A bright beam of light hits the creature, but it only flinches. She jabs the device harder until she realizes – "This is a fucking flashlight! What the hell am I supposed to do with this, tell a ghost story?"

Dipper shrugs from behind the turned over table where he's taking shelter.

She flashes the light straight into the Gazorpian's eyes. Covering its eyes in pain and fumbling backwards recklessly, Pacifica grabs a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and smashes it against the Gazorpian's head. It screams in pain, but not as much as Dipper.

"Grunkle Stan's going to bury me alive." He moans, shooting off another monster. "He's going to bury me alive and dance on my grave."

"And I thought I was the drama queen." She rolls her eyes and throws a butter knife through the creature's throat, making sure to duck behind a table for cover.

Dipper's facing off the last three of the Gazorpians all on his own when his blaster dies. He curses. "Outside. NOW!"

Getting up, Pacifica makes sure to arm herself first. She smashes her elbow against the glass and reaches for the fire extinguisher, trotting up right behind Dipper.

Suddenly, a Gazorpian grabs her by the jacket hard, ripping the fabric.

She gasps. "That's a hundred-dollar Reformation jacket!"

She hits it with the bottom of the fire extinguisher a couple of times before it retreats, limping. In all the flurry, Dipper quickly grabs the keys and drags Pacifica by the hand outside with him.

They run to the golf cart as fast as they can. Dipper floors it before they're even sitting down, but one of the Gazorpians latches onto a tire behind them. The cart swerves madly.

"Drive!" Pacifica orders as she takes a golf club and climbs over to the back. She pounds on the alien's hand with the golf club and it lets go in defeat.

"Pacifica, take the wheel."

She does as Dipper says, grateful for any moment to catch her breath. Beside her, he takes out a taser he fished from his bag and uses it to supercharge the laser gun. Small sparks flicker, lighting up the battery weakly before it dies right back again. Dipper bangs it against the cart in frustration. "We need a plan and we need it now."

The cart stops abruptly. She stomps on the acceleration. Nothing.

"I think we have a new problem."

The pair turn around to see the Gazorpian from before pulling their tire. With a grunt, it lifts the cart off the ground.

"Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

They jump off and roll to the ground on opposite sides. The Gazorpian tosses the cart aside. Quick on his feet, Dipper tazes the monster with the Taser dialed up to maximum voltage, and it writhes in agony. He takes her hand and they run into the forest before they can be followed.

"Got any other brilliant ideas?" she asks, running.

"You're supposed to be fighting expert!"

"And you're supposed to be the – duck!" She grabs his blaster from him and throws it at the Gazorpian trying to follow them.

"Hey!" Dipper protests.

She narrows her eyes, "That was for my coat."

"I'll buy you a new one," he grumbles defensively.

"I doubt it."

Once they're a safe distance away and hidden behind some trees and bushes for cover, Pacifica catches her breath. "This is usually the part where you use that genius brain of yours and get us out of this mess."

"I can't! These things aren't paranormal; they're intergalactic. The only thing I know about them is how to send them home." Dipper snaps.

Pacifica sighs, "Well, at least that's half of a plan."

"More like 31%."

"You undying ray of sunshine, you." She says, clenching her jaw. "Just…tell me what you need."

"I need them all to be in one spot so I can send them through the portal."

"Maybe I could - oh!" A lightbulb goes off in her head. "Mabel!"

He gives her a worried look. "Did you get hit on the head or something? I'm the other Pines twin, remember? Dipper?"

"No, you stupid genius!" She hits his shoulder happily and grabs his bag, searching for something. "Mabel's grappling hook!"

The worry in his eyes becomes confusion.

She explains, "I have an idea, but it's not going to be easy."

"Is it ever?" He grins despite himself.

"I can't hold them for long though. Maybe ten minutes, at most."

He nods. "That's all I need. Good luck!"

"You too," she slings the bag over her shoulder. "Try not to die without me."

* * *

 

Pacifica climbs up a high tree branch. Far below her, she can see Dipper; a small figure amidst three massive alien lifeforms, punching and kicking and running. She takes a deep breath. With the grappling hook positioned in her hand and one eye closed, she aims at one of the Gazorpians, the one from earlier. She could tell by the bruises. His hits are getting sloppier by the minute, obviously tired from chasing them before.

That makes him the easiest to take out.

"Lights out, motherfucker." She releases her finger from the trigger and pierces the hook right through the monster.

"Dipper, NOW!"

Dipper takes out a gun – different from the one had earlier – and a large green portal opens. She swings the monster against all the other monsters, causing them to topple together like a domino. Meanwhile, Dipper uses the golf cart to run them over and push them into the portal.

* * *

 She's close to collapsing by the time she climbs down the tree. It must show, because Dipper is rushing towards her in an instant. She loses her footing.

"Paz! Hey, hey," he holds her up, sits down beside her.

"I did good? Was that good?" She asks drowsily.

He grins, "That was fucking perfect, I'd say."

She laughs with labored breaths. "I'll be seeing spots for half a year. If I'm lucky."

"You seemed to enjoy that a little too much."

"Just letting out some steam."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm all steamed out now. You?"

He looks at her and she is fast asleep on the grass, hair splayed out like a halo and eyes closed in an angelic expression. He smiles and lies down beside her.

"OH MY GOD, THE MYSTERY SHACK! WHAT THE FU–"

And _that_ is Dipper's cue to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovelies! Bet you didn't expect another update so soon, did you? :)) Well, I'm happy to say, summer vacation has been treating me well. I finally found some time to finish this up and polish it for posting, and I have to say, this might have been one of my favorites to write! This was my first time ever writing an action sequence. I hope it didn't show too much. 
> 
> Anyways, please please please leave your thoughts and comments down in the reviews for me to read. It means a lot to me, getting to interact with my readers. I'd love love love to know what you think of this chapter or any of the others. Kudos to anyone who can tell where I got Gazorpians from!
> 
> As always, lots of love and see you soon!
> 
> (Oh, and I may or may not have taken some inspiration from the Spider-Man: Homecoming Ending hahahaha)
> 
> xoxo Amaya


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